occasion because he was intent upon how the deputy would continue. It was only when Harkness did, saying: ‘It is, I submit to you, the most damning incriminating evidence possible,’ that Charlie smiled.
Harkness’ voice was hoarse, being strained into a croak by the length of time he had been talking, but he pressed on, buoyed by the triumph of the moment and determined to omit nothing. ‘I would have liked to pursue this investigation further before arresting the man,’ he said. ‘I felt, however, that this was impossible for two reasons. Two days from now the Soviet delegation, including Natalia Fedova – this man’s control – returns to the Soviet Union…’ The familiar demanding hand reached out and Witherspoon offered another slip of paper. ‘… and because of this, a message intercepted less than two hours ago. It reads: “King William Street filled”.’ Harkness gulped from his water-glass and said: ‘I consider that this is overwhelmingly sufficient to justify the continued detention of Charles Edward Muffin, pending the further investigation I have intimated…an investigation for which I also seek the authority, on suspicion of activities detrimental to the State, of Natalia Nikandrova Fedova…’
Harkness finished, swallowing, but remained where he was in front of the evidence table for a few moments before walking back to join the men to whom he had been talking.
To Charlie, Harkness looked exhausted and probably was, but he was also flushed with elation. Charlie stood, waiting for permission from Wilson, feeling the throb developing in his feet, particularly the right one, near the ankle, and wished they’d let him sit. Another thing it was impossible to expect, he supposed, like getting any friendly reaction from the Director General.
‘Well?’ asked Wilson. There was a sad resignation in his voice.
‘Is that it!’ exclaimed Charlie. He made it intentionally discourteous, speaking not to the Director General but to Harkness.
The deputy director shifted uncomfortably, not expecting questioning, and looked to Wilson for guidance. Wilson said: ‘Well, is it?’ and Charlie guessed that Harkness regretted the earlier attack upon the older man.
‘As I have made clear, the investigation is continuing,’ maintained Harkness stiffly.
Charlie gave an exaggerated sigh, shook his head and said: ‘Incredible! Absolutely incredible!’
‘I’ll not have play-acting,’ warned Wilson. ‘If you have something to say, hurry up and say it.’
‘I have a lot to say, sir,’ responded Charlie politely. ‘And I ask you to bear with me because there is something going on that I don’t fully understand, not yet. But which I’ve got to:
‘You’ll have all the time you want,’ assured Wilson, the sadness still in his voice. ‘I want to understand it, too.’
Charlie half turned, to look at the two Special Branch men by the door, and then back to Harkness. Charlie said: ‘And it is going to be important that the investigation from now on is handled correctly and professionally. Not in the naive and amateurish way it appears to have been conducted so far…’
He hesitated, looking back to the guarded door where the two policemen were standing tight-faced and red with fury. There would have been an interruption anyway because from the table Harkness said: ‘I must protest at this! I have presented what I consider sufficient evidence for this man to be detained in custody pending charge under the Official Secrets Act and I urge that this be done. And that this farce stop!’
‘You’ve presented nothing!’ challenged Charlie, pleased at the way Harkness’ protest enabled him to expose the man’s obvious incompetence. Charlie glanced contemptuously back at the Special Branch couple and said: ‘If I were an agent of a hostile power, which incidentally I am not nor have I ever been, do you know what I’d be doing now? Laughing at you. Laughing at you, like I would have been laughing all the way here in the car because I would have already known how weak your case was: how you didn’t have one, in fact. Goliath over there made a big show at the hotel of waving a piece of paper and claiming it to be a warrant for my arrest. But cocked it up by referring to “the appropriate section” of the Official Secrets Act and not specifying the section, which he is required to do by law. A professionally trained agent, like I have been professionally trained but which some people here apparently haven’t, although they should have been, would have realized at once what’s happened. You’ve got a set of circumstances, most of which you haven’t got a clue about, and you’re hoping like hell for a confession, an explanation so that you’ll at last understand. Right!’
‘I refute that absolutely…’ started Harkness but Charlie refused the man the escape: now, maybe not completeling today but certainly starting today, was the win-or-lose confrontation between himself and this carping, manoeuvring bastard. And Charlie didn’t intend to lose. He said: ‘So where’s the warrant! Where’s a proper warrant signed by a magistrate satisfied by evidence already laid before him that there is evidence to justify my arrest?’
Harkness shifted, looking to Witherspoon and then the two men by the door as if expecting rescue from them, and said: ‘Under internal regulations governing the conduct of this department I have every authority to seize and detain an officer I suspect of being an agent of a hostile power.’
Got him, thought Charlie, satisfied at the admission. He said ‘But we weren’t talking about internal regulations governing the department, were we? We were talking about claims of legal warrants and hopes of full confessions and of hostile agents laughing at you.’
‘There
‘I don’t think so, sir,’ argued Charlie relentlessly. ‘I think it indicates the slapdash, inefficient way this inquiry has been conducted: the sort of slapdash, inefficient way that can’t be allowed to continue.’
Wilson’s head dropped over the table, so that it was impossible to see the expression on his face: Charlie regretted that he couldn’t. Wilson said: ‘Point noted. Proceed.’
In what order should he proceed? wondered Charlie. The overriding essential was to prove his innocence. And there could still be a hitch in the way he’d set out to establish that. He said: ‘What was the date of transmission of the message about reactivating by payment of one thousand?’
Harkness hesitated, looking across the room to Witherspoon and his dossier-cluttered table. The deputy director said: ‘Mr Witherspoon, upon my instructions, was nominally in charge of the day-to-day running of the investigation and has the evidence before him. Could I suggest to the committee that Mr Witherspoon responds to the questions?’
The asshole! thought Charlie. Already Harkness was trying to back away from the responsibility and off-load the mistakes and oversights on to someone else. Charlie looked at the angularly tall man. He wasn’t languid and self-assured today. Witherspoon was red-faced, like the policemen, moving his hands nervously among the files, not able to find what he wanted and becoming more flustered. At last he said: ‘The twenty-sixth.’
The relief warmed through Charlie. ‘You’re sure of that?’ he insisted.
‘Positive,’ replied Witherspoon. ‘I had already been appointed case officer of the communication intercepts. I logged the date personally.’
‘Transmitted from Moscow to the Soviet embassy here in Kensington Palace Gardens?’
‘That was where our technical division located the receiver.’
Charlie went back to Harkness, determined against the man evading any culpability. ‘And it is your contention that the message was a signal for me to receive, somewhen between the twenty-sixth and your rummage search of my apartment three or four days ago, a payment of one thousand pounds from some KGB officer at the Soviet embassy? The thousand pounds subsequently discovered in a hiding place in my apartment?’
‘It’s the only possible, damning conclusion,’ said Harkness.
‘It’s damning, all right,’ agreed Charlie. Looking at Witherspoon he said: ‘The cipher pad concealed elsewhere was subjected to forensic examination?’
‘Which proved it to be of Russian manufacture,’ confirmed the man.
‘What about the money?’
‘Of course.’
‘What did that show?’
‘A substantial number of fingerprints which, when compared to yours on your service and personnel file, proved to be identical.’
Harkness smiled sideways along the table at the other men and said: ‘I’m sorry. That was a fact I omitted earlier.’
Still addressing Witherspoon, Charlie said: ‘Anything else?’
‘There was another set of fingerprints. It has so far been impossible to match them with anyone in our existing files of hostile East bloc personnel…’ Wanting to impress with his thoroughness, Witherspoon added: ‘Every
